It was past midnight when he set off.

The backpacker zone of Siem Reap, Cambodia, still pulsed with manic energy all around him. He walked through streets teeming with sloshed foreigners and opportunistic touts, past lines of tiny food stands which emitted their own particular fried pheromones, past dingy hostels and hotels bathed in endless neon lights. Through this scene he passed like a phantom, armed only with a small bag on his back and a half-formed idea in his head. He was in for a long night and an even longer day, but even a premonition of this toll would probably not deter him; wanderlust and confidence had mixed with abandon into an irresistible potion at this moment in his life. Anything seemed possible, which can be a wonderful and dangerous proposition.

The madness of the world outside was no match for the mad plan inside him.

Eventually his tunnel vision carried him out of the tangled mass and into a place of more uniform space and structure: the luxury part of town. He was mostly alone now along wide, empty streets and great manicured lawns of grass. The heartbeat of Siem Reap grew more faint with each and every step; it was nearly 2am now, but his destination was still 10 kilometers ahead and shrouded in darkness.

Angkor Wat. The largest religious monument in the world, a temple complex built in the twelfth century and preserved in the middle of the jungle for hundreds of years mostly out of sight from the rest of the world. It is a wonder of the world, the national symbol of Cambodia and an exceedingly popular tourist attraction...with all the requisite expense that accompanies fame. A large entrance fee, food and drink and guides and the practical necessity of contracting a taxi driver to ferry one back and forth for the length of a day.

Unless, say, one is a little mad in the head.

He looked around and realized that he had passed some invisible border; the road had narrowed to a two lane division of quiet residential districts to his left and dense forest to his right. He paused here for a spell, entranced by a new, more subtle soundtrack to his journey. The forest looked curiously back this solitary figure- it was not typical to see such a sight, a lone white kid here in the middle of the night without a machine. But ever since the creation of this asphalt strip years ago, the atypical had quickly become typical. There was far more activity by humans now, but always with loud machines and smoke-filled trails in their wake. This human stood out for his lack of smoke and noisy carriage, though he too possessed that small rectangular box every human had recently become obsessed with and seemingly bound to in an unnatural way. At this moment, however, the human was following a small lightning bug on a meandered path through the night sky. Curious.

He was struck by the way this bug shone for what felt like an extended period, unlike the quick burst of light he was used to back home. This patiently-paced illumination reminded him of something seen in the deep ocean, a trick by a predator fish to lure in its prey. But the jungle couldn't know anything of that...or could it?

He walked along in semi-darkness, struck by this concrete division between settled life and wild jungle. Cars and motorbikes occasionally sped by, but he was leery of dealing with anyone out here at such an hour, even if they meant well. Pride dictated that he was undertaking this feat on his own two feet, no matter what. He failed to fully see that pride was simply one voice among many, so it was the only voice that commanded him at this moment. Every time headlights appeared he ducked behind a tree and pretended to be a piece of the jungle (the jungle chuckled) and silently observed the passage of another gleaming smoke machine.

At least two local men laughed at the crazy white person crouched in the bushes as they drove past.

This suspicious behavior, along with a peculiar man-scent, caught the attention of one, two, five and then every single outdoor dog in the neighborhood. Like dominoes they each fell into an alarmed cascade of barks shot blindly into the dark. Most never actually sensed what spark created this volley, but every dog was committed to its ancient duty as a canine. This was a matter of principle. He was showered by this leaderless chorus for at least two kilometers, every glimpse of peaceful quiet only destined to bring another excited rendition.

Finally, around 4.30, he reached a moat.

THE moat, the reason this temple could resist jungle encroachment across centuries of existence. He had made it, in time to purchase a ticket and procure a good spot for sunrise. His gait slowed from a power-walk into a nice stroll, contentment bringing both heaviness and a light quality to every step.

The security guard noticed him immediately- a white boy on foot (was he barefoot??) here before he was supposed to be, and coming from the wrong direction. Did some drunk tourist somehow wander all the way out here? Siem Reap had grown more unruly with time, attracting all the wrong sorts. He sighed, and then called out to the boy in Khmer. He knew full well this tourist wouldn't understand a word, he just liked messing with these buffoons. The boy's face was full of confusion and concern as he slowly approached.

Turns out, the ticket booth is two kilometers down the other road, the one normal people entered on as they drove or rode like sensible tourists to this giant complex. The boy shook his head in disbelief. What a mess. Now he was forced into a good pre-dawn jog, all the contentment evaporating instantly as sweat covered his body.

The girls collectively yawned in the back of their songthaew. Despite their best intentions, they had stayed up late yet again and were exhausted at this early hour. But it wasn't an ill-tempered kind of exhaustion, because that's just not who they were; it was the goofy kind, full of illogical joy and laughter. They were ready to push themselves to do the full sunrise experience, to do the 'thing'...but in the back of their minds hid the same quiet thought- maybe after this we can just go back and sleep...

They all saw him at the same time- sweaty, bloodshot eyes and an embarrassed grin on his face. Josh. They had met him on a beach in Thailand weeks before, and then again here in Siem Reap the past couple of nights. They recognized in him a similar wavelength of quirkiness, a happy-go-lucky nature. But when he had explained his hare-brained idea they all justifiably thought it insane beyond comprehension. More than one of the girls felts a twinge of motherly concern, mixed with relief, when they saw him slide into the ticket booth area to meet them.

They all shared a laugh and a story or two as they went through the ticket line and then back on to the taxi, where the driver generously acquiesced to a free lift for the besotted white kid. As for that kid's pride which had successfully resisted help until this point, well, it's amazing what power a group of attractive girls will have over a boy such as this.

They arrived at the temple early, but not early enough for the 'prime' spot by the edge of a pond. There would eventually be hundreds of people littered across these lawns, armed with tripods and selfie sticks and gawdy clothes and comically large trekking bags.

James Bond zoned in immediately on the group of pretty girls and their shaggy friend. He knew that his act would kill with this group of happy foreigners as soon he saw them share a laugh. He had delivered his one great line day after day in this same spot to such groups, and his experience bred innate confidence. He moved in with a smile on his face and offered his coffee services. They looked obliging, clearly tired and in need of caffeine no matter how terrible it might taste. Then he laid it on them- "Come to stand 007. I am James Bond- license to coffee!" Their laughter was music to his ears and money to his pockets. He knew he didn't have much after that- he could show his pictures of sunrises past, brilliant moments captured from a repetitive series of such moments that went back as far as he could remember. He could already tell this sunrise wasn't going to be particularly brilliant, so his pictures would look even better by comparison.

The group relished a bit of hot coffee and the charming locals who came by in hopes of procuring a smile and more money for their morning's work. Two small children successfully got money from the foreigners aided by large eyes and gap-toothed smiles, and they didn't even have to part with the cheap magnets they were 'selling'. Another young coffee-seller introduced himself as Harry Potter and managed to sell a couple cups; he didn't quite know who Voldemort was or any other details of the stories, but he had the important part down. And there was an unnervingly steady stream of chinese men who wanted to take pictures with the pretty white girls, awkward in their social graces and subconsciously bare in their true desires.

The interminable wait for an appearance by the star of the show was decorated by these half-blind interactions all around the area before the temple walls, from the pond up to a hill further back. The sky was glowing softly like the inside of a microwave, but the great golden disc took it's sweet time behind the horizon. He looked around at this scene, tourists from all corners of the globe brought together in anticipation of a life-changing event and the local community intermixed within, working hard in anticipation of life-sustaining business. He noticed the two small children from earlier, still pleading for dollars. But then one of them walked away from the crowd of tourists up to a well-manicured young Cambodian man in club-worthy clothes and slick shoes. The child looked shyly down at the ground below the man, but the man suddenly grabbed his arm with violent force and the child handed over the money in his pockets. The man then sent the child back out into the crowd to keep working.

He watched this exchange and realized this was just a thankless job for the child. The well-dressed young man- and probably many others like him- relied on the pity engendered by children to extract money from the crowd while they stood back and watched. Instead of going to school or learning a craft, this was daily life for the children: manipulated to make money for others. The lessons they learned were how to beg, how to charm for a handful of cash. Each tourist that gave in was just perpetuating the cycle, as much as they thought they were helping.

As the sun finally began to rise over ancient stones, he could only think of this depressing story. Cameras snapped pictures and excitedly babbled during the ascent, but as James Bond had predicted beforehand it seemed a non-transformative sight, especially for this troubled white kid. If he had perhaps been in a better state of mind he would have seen a powerful image- a stark light bathed in red-orange haze that overlooked a setting miraculously preserved for hundreds of years. He could perhaps have felt the spiritual lift of an experience shared by millions of people in this exact spot across the eons...but his mind was dampened by exhaustion and thoughts for the girls, the children, the tourists, and the world. He wasn't the only one in the crowd to think..."is this it?"

The stone felt an unmistakable touch of direct sunlight. Radiation flowed millions of light years directly into its carbon center and slowly chased away the chill of night. Hundreds of voices and camera clicks continued to rise up from the ground below, jaggedly mingled with the more serene sounds of nature this stone had grown accustomed to over the eons...insect songs and bird calls, the wind at play on cellulose instruments hung on trees. Only in this last brief period of time had the hubbub of humankind begun to take over the setting, but the stone still observed all impassively. Another cycle turned, from dark night into solar-heated day.